Expensive silk whispers against her skin, and I drink in every detail—the way her ribs expand with each breath, the delicate shape of her collarbone, the black lace bra cupping her breasts.Her nipples harden under my stare.I imagine the feel of them, the taste of them.
“Keep going.”My voice is softer, but also rougher.
This is fucking torture.
Why am I doing this to myself?
Finally she pulls the dress over her head and drops it.As the material swishes to the ground, her hair tumbles free in dark waves that cascade down her back and frame her face in wild disarray.
Then, eyes wide open, shoulder blades pulled together, she proudly stands there in front of me, wearing nothing but her bra, panties, and her sexy heels.
The air between us crackles with tension.
Her body is a temptation.And I’ve never experienced this kind of humbling need before.
Women have always come easily to me—eager, willing, throwing themselves at my feet, wanting my power, my money.
But Valentina?
She’s not begging for my touch.In fact, I know the idea of having my hands on her repulses her.
That irritates the hell out of me.
Echoes of my brother’s words haunt me: Matteo’s warning that kidnapping her was insane.Then there was Nico’s quiet doubt about the marriage.
But I did what I had to do as the Moretti underboss.
The Russos killed my father.This is revenge, unification, the only way to avoid war.But her resistance, this quiet fire… It’s not what I expected.It’s making me obsessed, and obsession isn’t normal.Not for me.
I take the final step that separates us.
As I close the gap, I trail a finger down her arm, feeling her goose bumps rising as I do.
Her skin is warm and soft, and she shivers under my touch.
Though she narrows her eyes, she doesn’t pull away.
“You’re beautiful.”My voice is husky, betraying the way I ache to possess her.
She doesn’t respond, just watches me, her breath coming faster now, and I slide my hand to her waist, pulling her closer until her body is pressed against mine.The lace of her bra is against my shirt, and the heat of her seeps through the fabric.
“You’re mine.”I lean in and brush her ear with my lips.
She shivers, and it’s from response, not revulsion.
My cock hardens.
“But you’re still partially dressed, aren’t you?”
“Moretti…” She looks up.
“Let me fix that for you, my little prisoner.”
She stiffens slightly, and she forces her palms against my chest.“What the hell do you want from me?”
“A kiss.”I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, my thumb stroking her lower lip.“Earn my robe, Valentina.Kiss me, and it’s yours.”
Her eyes meet mine.A storm of emotions swirls in the depth of her gaze—anger, desire, confusion.
